


you are my salvation

by writing_addict



Series: to the people who look up at the stars and wish [3]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: (mostly hinted at but we'll see more later), Alternate Universe - A Court of Thorns and Roses Fusion, BAMF Winry Rockbell, Breakfast, Edward Elric Swears, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fae Winry Rockbell, Families of Choice, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Illiteracy, Kidnapping, Magical Bond, Past Character Death, Romance, Sort Of, Temporary Character Death, The Night Court, but given that im bored as fuck ive elected to ignore it, fae Edward Elric, im back with a two-parter, it's coming y'all i swear, it's the reading scene, ive recognized that no one in the fma fandom knows wtf im saying, sort of???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24984844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_addict/pseuds/writing_addict
Summary: “Have you tested yourself against anyone?”His brow furrowed. “No.” He’d had no need to hunt, or…well, train, he supposed she was implying. Even if the act of doing either of those things might take the edge off of this restlessness, this feeling ofemptinesssteadily blooming in his chest. “Why would I?”She lifted one shoulder in an elegant shrug, popping a strawberry into her mouth. “You were resurrected by all seven High Ladies offering you a drop of their power. It would be interesting if anything had…transferred over.”Seven High Ladies—Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, Dawn, Day, and Night. Each with a specific set of powers tied to their bloodline, their Court, their crown. Ed knew that Rose’s was shapeshifting, that Winry’s were those terrifying mind-powers…Autumn, he assumed, was fire, but he didn’t know the rest. It didn’t stop him from snapping, “Nothingtransferredto me.”Except—something had changed. Something was clawing under his skin, writhing to be let out. Was it—Or:After being kidnapped from his own wedding, Ed has breakfast with the High Lady of the Night Court. Neither the place nor the person are anything like what he expects.
Relationships: Edward Elric & Ling Yao, Edward Elric/Rosé Thomas, Edward Elric/Winry Rockbell, Winry Rockbell & Ling Yao
Series: to the people who look up at the stars and wish [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1741414
Comments: 8
Kudos: 23





	1. death incarnate

**Author's Note:**

> mooooor(e) acotar au! ft the scene right after winry kidnaps ed from his own wedding, breakfast in the mountains, everyone being angry (except ling), ling having the brain cell, and highkey persephone-hades vibes. title and chapter titles come from quotes from a court of mist and fury (still have pdfs if anyone wants to read 'em lol)
> 
> ALSO we have a NEW CHARACTER  
> ling yao: mor, the high lord's (lady's) third in command and his one living relative, good at fashion, good at friendship, good at fighting, bad at being honest with herself. so, yk, ling

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re rather strong for a High Fae?”

Ed stiffened at the words, at Winry’s gaze on him—sharp, curious, as if she could see right past the rich plum fabric, past the ink and the skin and the scars and straight to that _something_ that lurked beneath the surface. He held her gaze, gritting his teeth even as some instinct pulled at him to balk, to drop his eyes. He wasn’t sure why he was fighting it—he never did in the Spring Court. Maybe it was just how…confusing this had all turned out to be. How confusing all of _this_ was.

_One week. One week, and then you can go back to the Spring Court._

But…but the Night Court wasn’t what he expected, either. According to Winry, he had free reign to roam wherever he wished within her Court, was allowed anywhere he liked in her private residence, this…moonstone palace without walls, a castle suited to the Summer Court built on the top of an ever-snowing mountain. The seasons moved and changed freely, unlike the stagnation of the Spring Court (and he supposed all the Seasonal Courts), and so did the days and nights.

He’d thought it would be dark all the time, that he would be imprisoned, tortured…but instead, he was woken by two servants and gently prompted to attend breakfast with the High Lady. Instead, he’d been given clean, comfortable clothes (he hated to admit it, but he liked them better than the suits of the Spring Court) and felt the sun bathe his skin as he stepped out to meet her.

Winry was still being a prick, but…she hadn’t done any of the things Rose and the others always said she was capable of. That she had done to so many other people.

It made him wary, but he couldn’t stop that unfamiliar flicker of…curiosity in his chest. He didn’t voice it, though, instead slicing carefully through one of the pastries that had been laid out on the low table between two couches and took a bite. “Am I?”

“I’ll take that as a no,” she muttered, and he glanced up at her again. She didn’t look like she had Under-the-Mountain, or when she’d come to rescue— _kidnap_ him yesterday, like a dark faerie queen who would laugh as the world shattered beneath her feet. Her fair hair was tied up in a ponytail, her skin a rich honey-gold rather than that moonstone-pale he remembered it being, as if she’d finally gotten a chance to be in the sun, and she wore a fitted black shirt with a blue-and-silver waistcoat instead of those sweeping, dramatic gowns. He remembered her saying that she had wings, once upon a time—that she could fly, but hadn’t since Envy took over the Courts.

He wondered if, now that he was gone, she’d been flying—and wondered why he cared.

“Have you tested yourself against anyone?”

His brow furrowed. “No.” He’d had no need to hunt, or…well, train, he supposed she was implying. Even if the act of doing either of those things might take the edge off of this restlessness, this feeling of _emptiness_ steadily blooming in his chest. “Why would I?”

She lifted one shoulder in an elegant shrug, popping a strawberry into her mouth. “You were resurrected by all seven High Ladies offering you a drop of their power. It would be interesting if anything had…transferred over.”

Seven High Ladies—Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, Dawn, Day, and Night. Each with a specific set of powers tied to their bloodline, their Court, their crown. Ed knew that Rose’s was shapeshifting, that Winry’s were those terrifying mind-powers…Autumn, he assumed, was fire, but he didn’t know the rest. It didn’t stop him from snapping, “Nothing _transferred_ to me.”

Except—something had changed. Something was clawing under his skin, writhing to be let out. Was it—

_No._

“It would just be rather _interesting_ if it did,” she mused, and arched an eyebrow at him with a faint, sly grin.

He debated throwing the muffin he was eating at her, debated the merits of storming out of the room and throwing himself back onto that giant, cloud-soft bed in _his_ room and screaming until the _thing_ clawing at his ribs went quiet. Instead, he hissed, “It _didn’t._ And I’m not going to test it. Or learn to shield and r-read—” he stumbled over the word, cheeks flushing with shame; he knew damn well that he should have learned by now, but he was in the middle of his lessons when his family had lost everything. Had spent all his time trying to adjust and learn to ration resources that had been ever-flowing before, and then when what money they had left ran out, he had to go out into the woods and teach himself how to hunt. Just to ensure that his father (his stupid, _bastard_ of a father, who let a _child_ go into the forest alone while he stared into the fire) and his brothers (he didn’t blame Al, who had been even younger than him at the time, but he was damn-sure angry at Roy, even though he’d tried to come after him when he went over the wall into the fae lands) didn’t starve. There hadn’t been _time,_ not when he was responsible for keeping himself and three other people alive. “From _you.”_

She scoffed quietly. “Why, from spite? I thought we got past that Under-the-Mountain.”

_A tongue licking up his tears—_

_Oily paint and sheer silk on his skin, faerie wine down his throat—_

_Night Court ink on his arm, a bargain made—_

And—

_Winry’s voice, quiet and lonely, speaking of wings and starlight—_

_Her screams, a knife in her hand, roaring his name over and over—_

_“I want people to know that I—that I fought him. In the end.”_

Ed’s voice went quiet, flat and cold. “Don’t get me started on what you did _Under-the-Mountain.”_

He expected laughter, goading, complete disregard.

He did not expect Winry to go still—utterly still, utterly quiet, and he remembered with a flash of horror— _forty-nine years, she was under there forty-nine years, controlled by Envy._ Her breathing grew ragged, tearing at her chest as her fingers curled into fists, death swirling in those blue eyes—death and _fear,_ death and _hate_ (but not towards him, something whispered, towards her own damn _self—)._ Great shadows spread across the pillars, forming the shape of what looked like _wings—_

And then she stopped, even as she opened her mouth as if to speak. Leaned back, those shadows dissipating. “We have company,” she muttered, before sighing and raking a hand through her hair, mussing it up. It was the most…ordinary he’d ever seen her. Especially after _that._ “We’ll continue this conversation later.”

“Like hell we will,” he snapped, and he didn’t know why he was daring to question words that he usually nodded along with in the Spring Court—maybe because he didn’t care about Winry, and because she’d guaranteed he would remain unharmed, because she seemed to enjoy his temper far more than anyone reasonably _should_ —but quick, light footsteps sounded down the hall and his mouth snapped shut.

Someone was coming. Someone else was…here, in this palace.

And then he appeared, standing in the hallway—and it had to be illegal, Ed thought, a bit infuriated, for the Night Court to have _this_ many attractive people in it. All High Fae were beautiful, inhumanly so, but Winry and now _this_ person…this person was in every way her equal, long, thick dark hair twisted into a low ponytail and bronze skin warm against white silk, his clothes cut in a similar style to Ed’s. Warm brown eyes blinked at him, before a brilliant smile spread across the man’s face. “Hello, hello.”

That voice—he’d heard it last night, after being kidnapped from his own damn wedding. After arguing with Winry—

 _“So, that went well.”_ As if there was any other possibility between him and Winry, any chance of pleasantness between the two of them.

_Way to make a shitty first impression again, Ed._

He swore he heard Winry snicker as his gaze fixed on the newcomer, but when he glanced at her, her expression was bored. “Ed, meet my advisor—”

“Cousin,” the man corrected brightly, leaning over the back of her couch with a laugh, earning a groan from Winry as she swatted at him.

“We’re _not_ cousins—Ed, meet Ling. Ling, meet the dashing, lovely, and…ah, _open-minded_ Edward.”

He nearly splashed his tea in her face, but froze as Ling’s eyes fixed on him, rich amber flicking up and over him curiously as he rested an elbow on the back of the couch and his chin in his hand, every movement steady and graceful and…grounded. He was unarmed, but Ed had learned that a lack of weapons here usually meant you didn’t _need_ them. “I’ve heard so much about you!” he chirped, and Ed blinked in astonishment at the cheery words, before yelping as Ling bounced over the couch and yanked him into a bone-crushing hug.

It had been…a long, long time since he’d been hugged like _that._ Like he wasn’t breakable, like he wasn’t going to shatter at any moment—and maybe he _was_ all of those things, but it was refreshing all the same. He usually wouldn’t accept the contact, but he found himself hugging back. _Just because of this—this stupid bastard’s energy,_ he told himself. _And it would be impolite not to._ “Oh, _really.”_

He laughed, pulling away and glancing at Winry. “Oh yeah. I think I got here just in time, though—even if it’d be fun to see Winry get launched off the mountain.”

“I’m still considering it,” he found himself muttering, and Ling laughed again in what seemed like sheer delight before plopping down next to Winry, whose expression was downright incredulous. “And it’s—nice to meet you.”

 _“Liar,”_ Ling sang, pouring himself a mug of tea and loading his plate with a bit of everything. “You want absolutely _no-thing_ to do with us, it’s all over your face. And this evil old woman right here is making you sit here and endure her dramatics.”

“I am _one year older than you,”_ Winry started, before sighing and leaning back. “You’re…energetic today, Ling.”

He huffed, rolling his eyes. “Forgive me for being excited about having company _for once.”_

“You _could_ be attending to your own duties.”

It was increasingly hard not to grin at the exchange, but he bit his lip, fighting valiantly against the urge to snicker at Winry’s clear irritation. He’d only ever seen her as this…unflappable statue, forever smug, sometimes cruel, _never_ out of her depth (though that wasn’t quite true, some part of him whispered, remembering how she’d thrown herself at Envy for him, knowing damn well she’d be defeated). Seeing her irked like this, with her hair messed up and wearing clothes that were almost ordinary…she seemed more human, almost. More _real_.

Less like the monster in the shadows and more like…a person.

Ling _hmphed,_ reaching toward the fruit bowl and spooning some melon into a cup. “ _You_ gave me _carte blanche_ to come up here whenever I liked—and how was I supposed to stay away when you’d finally brought my new friend to meet me?”

Ed choked at that— _friend? Is he serious—oh, gods, he is—_ before spearing a piece of sausage on his fork. “…What’s the cousin thing about?” Winry had already confirmed that they weren’t…well, cousins, but they were definitely _close,_ and it was worth learning something about the Night Court while he was here—about the people. Maybe Rose would recognize the name.

“Ling,” Winry said, shooting the man in question a _look_ and earning a bright smile in response, “isn’t _actually_ related to me, but our families were political allies. And as the children of powerful people in our Court, we grew up together, stuck together, and…here we are. He’s the closest thing I have left to blood family.”

He opened his mouth to ask what happened to her _actual_ blood-family—then closed it abruptly, remembering what Rose had told him. Remembering whose grandmother was responsible for the death of his fiancée’s family. Winry apparently didn’t notice, continuing, “And as the closest I have left, he feels entitled to breeze in and out of my life as he sees fit.”

“And here I thought you’d be grateful for my delightful presence,” Ling sighed, plopping two muffins onto his plate. “How very sad, cousin mine.”

“I didn’t see you—Under-the-Mountain.” The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he forced himself not to shudder at the memory, at what had _happened._ Forced himself to listen to his response, and nothing more.

Something in those stunning brown eyes went still and cold, dark with an emotion he couldn’t place—but Ling’s voice was every bit as cheerful as it had been moments ago as he chirped, “Oh, I wasn’t there. I was in—”

“Ling.” Winry’s voice was soft, without the hint of a snarl or a command, but shadows flickered along the walls and Ling shot her an apologetic glance, before shrugging and popping a piece of melon into his mouth with a pleased hum. Ed narrowed his eyes; they were keeping _something_ from him, that much was clear, but he wasn’t sure what—and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Blue eyes swept to him again, and he managed not to stiffen under that sharp gaze. “Ling will be here for the rest of the week, but you’re under no obligation to grace him with your company.” Ling stuck his tongue out at her, before yelping as she flicked his forehead. Winry glanced back at Ed’s plate, before looking up at him again. “Eat enough?”

Yes—no—well, _yes,_ but he wondered if he could get out of this reading lesson and stay here with the tea ( _sweet, sweet caffeinated tea)_ and the millions of fruits he’d never tasted before if he said _no._ Lying to a mind-reader, though…he nodded instead, and she got to her feet, stretching her arms above her head for a moment before dropping them and saying, “Good,” before gesturing to an area sectioned off between pillars with swaying, pale-blue curtains. “Then your first lesson awaits.”

Ed grimaced, getting to his feet and following her, only to pause and glance back as Ling laughed. The man sliced one of his muffins in two with a clean, steady sweep of the knife—familiar with weapons, then, and still dangerous without them. “If she pisses you off, Ed, feel free to shove her over the nearest balcony.”

_…Maybe this week won’t be entirely nightmarish._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, guys! leave a comment and/or a kudos if you enjoyed it, and check out the next chapter, too. i'm having loads of fun with this story, lol. i hope you guys like reading it as much as i like working on it!


	2. night triumphant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Asshole._ He dragged the paper out of her reach, looking at the first word and slowly sounding it out in his head. “Y-you…” He hated this, he _hated_ this, having this weakness put on display in front of his Court’s greatest enemy. “Look…”
> 
> “Good,” she encouraged.
> 
> Ed gritted his teeth. “I didn’t ask for your approval, and I don’t _fucking need it.”_
> 
> She just chuckled. He bristled at the reaction, before forcing his gaze back down to the paper. “Abs…absolutely…” Gods, that word was a nightmare—and the next one was even worse, a mess of letters that he could only get halfway through. “Del…deli...”
> 
> “Delicious,” Winry filled in, her voice nearing a purr.
> 
> His eyes flicked up toward hers suspiciously as she leaned forward, forearms resting on the tower of books as she grinned wolfishly at him, before glancing down at the paper and reading the next two words—before chucking the paper at her with a rush of fury. _“You look absolutely delicious today, Edward?_ What the _fuck_ are you trying to—”
> 
> Or:
> 
> Ed has his reading lesson with Winry. It goes about as well as expected--which is to say, horribly.

It was turning out to be _entirely_ nightmarish.

“I don’t see why you can’t just hire a tutor or something,” Ed hissed, glaring down at the offending paper set in front of him as Winry picked through bookshelves and stacked volumes on one of the low tables nearby. “Night Court treasury running low?”

She snorted, dropping a book with what looked like a map inscribed on it on the top of the stack. “Next time you ask that, remind me to show you Ling’s wardrobe. If anything’s draining our coffers, it’s his clothing budget.” She glanced at him, arching an eyebrow. “Is it that hard to even _try_ to read that sentence in front of me?”

“Excuse me for not wanting to humiliate myself in front of my _kidnapper,”_ he snapped, bristling. “Don’t you have important High Lady shit to do or something?”

“I enjoy this more than all my ‘important High Lady shit.”

“Enjoy _what?”_

Her smile was vicious as she turned back toward him. “Watching you squirm.”

Ed reminded himself, with great difficulty, that launching himself out of this chair and decking her would probably result in his own demise. “You’re a real bitch, you know that?”

Winry’s laugh was humorless as she added another book to the stack, this one thinner than the rest. “I’ve been called worse.” That title, that role she’d been made to play flashed in his head unbidden, along with a pang of guilt— _Envy’s Whore—_ before he squashed it as she added, “In fact, I think you’ve called me worse.” She leaned over and tapped the paper. “Read that.”

His throat tightened with shame and frustration at the sight of the blurry letters before him. “I can’t.”

“Just try.” Her voice was surprisingly gentle, and he hated it—hated that she could be kind, that she could be _pleasant,_ because it made it so much harder to hate her.

He’d manage, though. He always did. “What’s your stake in this?” he demanded—anything to stall, to keep his eyes off that sentence written in elegant, careful print, no fancy swoops or dives or untidy scrawls. Her handwriting—or maybe a simplified version of it, to make it easier to read. “You said you’d tell me if I worked with you. So tell me.”

Her eyes glinted, and a wicked grin spread across her face, and—yes, _very_ easy to hate her when she pulled _that_ face. “I said I’d tell you. I never specified _when.”_

 _Oh, you—_ He sucked in a slow breath, unsure if he was pissed at her for setting the trap or at himself for walking right into it. _Play bitch games, win bitch prizes,_ he reminded himself sullenly, his lip curling into a snarl as she leaned toward him, that smirk fixed on her face. “Maybe I resent the idea of you letting those sycophants and war-mongering imbeciles in the Spring Court make you feel lesser. Maybe I really do like watching you squirm. Or maybe I don’t want anyone to be able to keep you in the dark about their plans again, or want to send cleverly-written insults to your High Lady through you, or—”

“I get it,” he muttered, leaning away and staring down at the paper as if it would leap up and bite him. He half wished that it would. At least he’d know how to handle that.

“Just try to read it, Ed.”

 _Asshole._ He dragged the paper out of her reach, looking at the first word and slowly sounding it out in his head. “Y-you…” He hated this, he _hated_ this, having this weakness put on display in front of his Court’s greatest enemy. “Look…”

“Good,” she encouraged.

Ed gritted his teeth. “I didn’t ask for your approval, and I don’t _fucking need it.”_

She just chuckled. He bristled at the reaction, before forcing his gaze back down to the paper. “Abs…absolutely…” Gods, that word was a nightmare—and the next one was even worse, a mess of letters that he could only get halfway through. “Del…deli...”

“Delicious,” Winry filled in, her voice nearing a purr.

His eyes flicked up toward hers suspiciously as she leaned forward, forearms resting on the tower of books as she grinned wolfishly at him, before glancing down at the paper and reading the next two words—before chucking the paper at her with a rush of fury. _“You look absolutely delicious today, Edward?_ What the _fuck_ are you trying to—”

Blue eyes flashed, and he went stiff as sharp claws dragged over his mind and her voice whispered inside his head, sweet as honey and clear as diamond: _It’s true, isn’t it?_

_“What are you—stop!”_

Those claws dug _in_ instead—and Ed’s entire body yielded, right down to the blood in his veins, the air in his goddamn _lungs,_ fell right into her control as she murmured, _The fashion of the Night Court suits you._

He couldn’t move—couldn’t even _blink._

 _This is what happens when you leave your mental shields down,_ she said, her voice suddenly sharp. _Someone with my sort of powers could look in, go rummaging around for what they want, and take your mind for themselves. Or shatter it completely. I’m only on the threshold of your mind right now, but were I to go deeper, a single thought could wipe your entire sense of self away._

Distantly, he felt his heartbeat pound faster, his palms go clammy at the idea of someone ripping into his mind and making him—someone else. Or taking pieces out, or putting them in. His mind was broken and hurt and destroyed after Under-the-Mountain, but it was still _his._ The mere thought of someone taking it was _terrifying._

_Good. You should be scared. You should be scared, and thanking the goddamn Cauldron that someone with my kind of gifts hasn’t run into you these past three months. Now shove me out._

Ed couldn’t—those claws were everywhere, digging into every thought, every memory. He was paralyzed, he was trapped, he couldn’t move, _he was_ —

_Shove. Me. Out._

There was nowhere he could begin, no gap in her armor that he could rip through, nothing but unending darkness and those _claws._ He slammed and clawed and shoved at that iron grip, screamed in silent fury and pushed wildly at the magic—to _no avail._ It was like wandering a hall of mirrors, reflections shaking up every possible exit into a dizzying blur—

A soft, dark laugh, and an opening seemed to form. _That way, Ed._

Narrow—too narrow to shove all of her influence out, all that raw power. Like forcing the ocean into a damn _funnel,_ a tsunami swallowing a single wave—

_Wave—_

If he could just… _wash her out—_

He didn’t let her see the plan as he gathered every memory, every scrap of knowledge, every thought and ideal and _feeling_ he’d ever had into a powerful wave, and then _struck._ Battered it against her until the claws loosened, and the power retreated. Retreated _reluctantly,_ as if letting him win, but he’d still _won._ Against _her,_ and now his bones, his breath, his blood belonged to him again.

“Good,” Winry said after a moment, and he slumped in his seat—only to bare his teeth at her as she continued, “now shield. Block me out so I can’t get back in.”

As if he wasn’t exhausted from that alone—exhausted and humiliated and fucking _tired_ of all this pushing, of the tiny question poking at his mind, wondering why he was fighting here when he never dared to in the Spring Court. Why he felt safer resisting here than he did at _home,_ why, why, _why—_

Claws stroked at the outer layer of his mind, and Ed, before he could think twice about it, slammed down a wall of glistening obsidian around his mind, hard and unbreakable as diamond. He heard Winry laugh as if from a great distance, and opened his eyes again to glare at her as the claws retracted and she grinned. “Nice,” she said. “Very nice—blunt, but effective.”

Ed forced himself not to lunge for her throat—not after that demonstration of just how _easily_ he could be overpowered. He crumpled the slip of paper in his fist, picking it to shreds with a hiss. “You’re a snake.”

“What, you just figured that out?” He snarled, and she laughed again, shaking her head. “But honestly, I’m impressed. You read that whole sentence, booted me out of your mind—very unexpected, by the way, well done—and then shielded. Excellent work.”

“Condescend to me again and I’ll rip out your _tongue.”_

“I’m not. You’re reading at a higher level than I anticipated.”

He felt heat rush to his cheeks and wanted to kick himself, hoping his glare would hide the—the _blush. Why are you doing that?_ he berated himself. _She’s mocking you, moron!_ “I’m still mostly illiterate, asshole.”

She shrugged. “You have the basics. At this point, it’s all about practice and spelling. You could be reading novels by this year’s Gilded Festival—and if you keep adding to that shield, you might well be able to keep me out of your mind by then. Which I’m sure would be a boon to _both_ of us.”

He ignored the comment about the Gilded Festival—he’d never experienced one, since Envy had banned it on a whim with several other Fae holidays. Rose was excited about it, and he was excited that she was excited, but…well, he hoped that she worked out whatever was causing this—this _lockdown_ that she was keeping him in.

It would. Things would get better. They had to. “You sure you’re not just giving me a futile task to watch me fail miserably at blocking you out?” He doubted it was even possibly to lock her out fully.

“If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t even make the suggestion,” Winry hummed, drumming her fingers lightly on a book. “But you hold a bit of each High Lady’s power in you—on top of whatever was already _there._ So really, who knows how deep that power goes?”

A spark of excitement flared within him at the thought, traitorous and wild— _I can fight, I can defend them, Rose won’t have to keep me on the manor grounds if I show I’m capable—_ before he beat it down. It was just for a little while longer. Just until the unrest after Under-the-Mountain settled fully. Just—just until then. Rose already knew he was capable, that he could fight. That he could survive.

Didn’t she?

“Let me guess—I’m still gonna be bound by this bargain by the Gilded Festival.”

Her silence was enough answer. Ed scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “After what happened—” his voice faltered, that sudden burst of confidence faltered, and he tried to find the words to describe what had happened Under the Mountain. His death, her screams, the ash blade she’d launched at Envy, the tiny bit of life she’d given him to bring him back. His rebirth. “Wouldn’t you say we’re already even?” he managed instead, throat suddenly feeling thick and clogged. “I-I mean, you already did.”

Nothing. Nothing, from those cold blue eyes—a different mask than the playful one, a different person than the one who’d screamed for him, fought for him.

“Isn’t it enough that we’re all free?” he pressed. _Give me something, anything._ “I thought you were _different,_ at the end—I thought you cared, I thought that this was just a _mask,_ but now—now you’re exactly what they say you are. You’re still—”

She sucked in a sharp, vicious breath, and something in Ed went cold as he realized what he’d nearly said. _Envy’s Whore._ The shadow of wings flickered again, silver momentarily lining her eyes, before she blinked and both flickers of emotion vanished. “Freedom,” she said after a moment. “Is that what you call it?”

“Envy is gone—”

“But we are not _free,”_ she hissed, and her eyes flashed with something like anger—and something like fear. “Unless you call the nightmares freedom. Unless you call being all wrapped up like a present and given to someone who _sat on her ass while you died_ freedom. Unless you call not saying a damn word about _what I did to you Under the Mountain_ freedom.”

So that comment at breakfast really _had_ gotten under her skin. “Did you tell _yours?”_ If she even had them, beyond her…cousin.

She barked a laugh. “This isn’t about me.”

“Isn’t it always?”

“At least I’m actually _doing_ something about the threat while you stick your head in the sand and let them coddle you—”

“I don’t _let_ them coddle me—”

“No, you just let them drag you about and keep you silent and complacent and pretend everything’s _fine.”_

Ed forced himself not to recoil, tilting his chin defiantly up at her. “So?”

 _“So?”_ Rage flashed in her eyes—and then cooled back to indifference.

“I’m ready to be taken home now.”

She snorted. “Back to stagnant Spring, where you’ll be cloistered for the rest of your life. I can’t wait to see what Russel does when he gets his hands on whatever heirs you and Rose give that place.”

His face reddened, fingers curling into fists as his nails bit into his palms. “My home and my life are none of your fucking business.”

Winry stared him down, before shaking her head—and just like that, the mask was back in place, regal and cruel and endlessly amused by the tiny, petty creatures before her. “No, I suppose it isn’t.” She tapped a blank piece of paper. “Copy the alphabet until your letters are perfect. Every time you reach ‘z’, lower and raise your shield. Until that comes as easily as breathing. I’ll be back in an hour.”

He stared up at her, shocked that she’d just…let the argument go—and a little _disappointed,_ almost. “What?”

Her lips curved into a cold smile. “Copy. The. Alphabet. Until—”

The disappointment was swiftly replaced by rage, the shock with irritation. “I heard what you said.” _Bitch, bitch, bitch,_ bitch.

“Then get to work.” Winry rose to her feet, moving with all the grace of a panther. “And grant me the courtesy of only calling me a bitch when your shields are back up.”

She vanished in a ripple of darkness just as Ed realized the wall of obsidian had faded—and let out a scream of frustration.

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment and/or a kudos if you enjoyed it! im still goin' on this AU and several others, just s l o w l y (motivation is at an all-time low lmao). and just so you know, donation commissions are STILL open! donate to bail funds around the country, charities and organizations fighting for black lives and resources, and dm the donation receipt to @maevestigations on insta, and I will write you a one-shot! keep signing petitions, keep calling and emailing your elected officials, keep the movement alive!
> 
> i'll see y'all next time <3 thanks for reading as always, and for your support!


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